


The Demon (with no face) Barber of Fleet Street

by arcadian88



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Eve is a physical therapist and self proclaimed detective, F/F, Sweeney Todd AU, Villanelle is a hairstylist, apologies in advance for questionable plot line, bear with me it's my first chapter fic, various Killing Eve characters make appearances
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-23
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:55:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23270563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadian88/pseuds/arcadian88
Summary: AU with everyone in a Sweeney Todd-esque murder set up.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 17
Kudos: 77





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The barber on Fleet Street.

_Snip snip snip._ Hair fell to the ground at Villanelle’s feet. She combs through the freshly cut layers and steps back, assessing for evenness.

“How does it look?” asked the girl in the chair.

Villanelle shifts her weight on her feet, she’s getting tired of standing. This is the last customer of the day and she doesn’t even recall the girl’s name anymore but thinks it’s some sort of flower, maybe Rose or Lily.

“Like someone just cut your hair.” Villanelle replied by holding up a mirror so Rose-or-Lily could see the back.

“Yeah, but like, do you think it looks good?” says Rose-or-Lily turning her head side to side leaning forward for closer inspection.

“I think the style suits you and the layers add lift and movement.” Villanelle quotes the Cosmopolitan sitting in the girl’s lap. “I’m just going to massage some styling tonic into your hair and then we’ll be done.”

Villanelle can tell that Rose-or-Lily is enjoying the massage as she leans her head back and wears a faint smile with her eyelids half-closed. One of Villanelle’s hands creeps to the front and then with a sharp twist snaps the girl’s neck in an upward jerk. She cradles Rose-or-Lily’s head for a moment, watching the light fade in her eyes and then lets the head drops forward draped in perfectly cut layers accented with blended golden streaks. She walks over to the vanity and presses a button on the side of the mirror. Nothing happens. Villanelle presses it a couple more times. Nothing. Sighing, Villanelle opens the mirror door and punches the button forcefully. It now remains stuck in the “in” position. There’s a creaking noise and Villanelle looks around to see the space in front of the chair slide open revealing a chute while the chair tips forward and dumps its inhabitant out unceremoniously. In an ideal world the trap door would open, the body drops into the chute and then the door replaces itself. However the timing is all off and everything happens simultaneously resulting in the Rose-or-Lily’s feet get caught on the foot rest of the chair and the panel attempting decapitation while trying to return to its closed position. Villanelle sighs again. She’s been doing a lot of sighing lately. Sometimes when she sighs she tries of force all the air leaving her lungs hopes that one of these days they might just collapse completely and put her out of her unending boredom. Villanelle turns away and begins cleaning up the rest of the shop. She runs the vacuum once around the chairs while pushing them in, refills the shampoo and conditioner containers, empties the cash register and then finally flips the door sign to “CLOSED”.

Finally she turns back to the mess she was ignoring before. Villanelle leans down, yanks the door panel back and shouts,

“Hey nobody! You’re the worst!” and then she shoves the girl head first down the chute. Heading to the back room Villanelle opens her locker, hangs up her apron and steps through onto a wrought iron descending staircase.

Villanelle’s latest pair of combat boots clang loudly on the winding metal staircase. The sight and smells that greet her are the usual but nonetheless nose-wrinkling.  
A short, stodgy, practically balding man stands over a bubbling pot stirring it with a wooden paddle. The smell of wet feathers and boiling blood waft around the room in a foggy metallic haze. He looks up as Villanelle comes into view.

“I consider myself to be a somebody.” Raymond says with a frown.

Villanelle walks over and stares at him through the rising steam.

“The chair sucks, the body got caught in the door panels. Also that stupid button is broken again.”

Raymond scowls and stirs more vigorously causing the pot contents to slosh dangerously. Villanelle steps back out the splash zone.

“Seriously? I just rewired a couple days ago. Do you always have to break my stuff?”

“I consider that to be one of my current hobbies.” Villanelle shoots back with a dazzling smile.

“You’re insufferable. Help me de-feather.” Raymond says grabbing a strainer and fishing out the headless boiled pigeons.

Villanelle gets a pair of tweezers, pulls on some gloves and grabs the nearest bird.

“I think the chair needs to recline backwards and that will make for a more natural downward slide head first.” she says yanking out a few feathers, foregoing the tweezers completely.

“Well that would require a complete rework of the mechanics and possibly a different structure of the chair now wouldn’t it.” Raymond says methodically tweezing his bird and grimacing. Villanelle smirked, she knew that the wet mess of feathers she was creating was undoubtedly triggering the control freak in Raymond to raise its ugly head.

“Well you made a sucky chair that is also ugly so I think it does need a redo.” Villanelle replies, “Or is that too hard for you to wrap your pigeon-size brain around?”

Raymond lunges forward and grabs the front of Villanelle’s neck, pressing his tweezers against her throat.

“My knowledge of human anatomy is very precise, I could puncture both your carotid artery and jugular vein simultaneously.” he hisses in her ear.

“Do it.” rasps Villanelle trying to break his hold.

“That’s enough.” a deeply gravelly voice booms from the other side of the room. Konstantin emerges out the shadows as the pair break apart.

“Konstantin!” Villanelle runs over greeting him enthusiastically with a hug. “It’s so good to see you.”

“Mmmmm.” Konstantin grunts under the tight squeeze and pries her arms off. “What did you do this time?”

“Nothing!” Villanelle says exasperated. “I was just being thoughtful and giving constructive criticism about Raymond’s shit chair.”

“You broke my shit chair, again.” Raymond counters.

“You two are terrible coworkers.” Konstantin rubs his forehead as if to ward off an oncoming headache.

“I just came to drop off the next assignment and am going to leave.” He produces an envelope, lays it on a clean part of the table and takes a step back, promptly tripping on the crumpled heap of Rose-or-Lily.

Swearing in Russian Konstantin says over his shoulder as he leaves, “Don’t be messy.”

Raymond and Villanelle move together and pick up Rose-or-Lily and move her towards the washing area against the farther wall. They agree on the count of three to lift and swing her into the basin. Just before the last swing Raymond flashes a quick grin to Villanelle and drops the girl’s head on the upswing. Pain tears through Villanelle’s shoulder as it dislocates and the body lands with a thud in the metal trough.

Raymond grins widely before Villanelle punches him in the face.

“That’s for my shoulder asshole.”

Grabbing her bag, Villanelle leaves him with blood gushing from his nose cursing after her and marches down the narrow walkway leading into a pie shop. With her good shoulder Villanelle wrenches open the door and steps onto the street.

Villanelle’s apartment is two blocks down from the pie shop which makes for an easy commute. Fumbling with her keys in her left hand she opens her apartment door. The TV is on and Irina is already nestled on the couch with a bowl of popcorn.

“You started The Bachelor without me? You little shit.” Villanelle says in French closing the door behind her.

“We start at 5:30PM sharp.” responds Irina in Russian through a mouthful of popcorn turning back to the TV.

“I got caught up at work.” Villanelle says defensively reverting to English and grabbing for the popcorn bowl. She lets out a surprised gasp of pain as her shoulder makes an audible creaking noise.

“That’s not a normal shoulder sound.” Irina says looking at Villanelle in mild concern.

“No shit Sherlock, I think I dislocated it.” Villanelle muttered through clenched teeth hunched over.

Irina sets the popcorn bowl on the coffee table, pauses the TV and heads into Villanelle’s bedroom.

“Where are you going?” calls Villanelle after her. "Did you just pause tv?"

“I recorded the episode. I’m coming back, don’t move.”

Villanelle grumbles something like _recorded and yet she insists on starting at 5:30PM_ and leans back gingerly.

Irina says coming back and heading to the kitchen. She returns to the couch with a pillowcase, scissors and a bag of frozen peas. She picks up the scissors and cuts the pillow case open.

“You know that’s 100% Egyptian cotton right?.” Villanelle says annoyed. “What are you doing?”

“It’s the right size.” says Irina now folding the sheet into a triangle and putting it aside. “I’m making you a sling. Now come here and raise your arm.”

With lots of swearing in multiple languages (mostly from Villanelle), Irina manages to slide Villanelle’s shoulder back in place. The sharp pain ceases instantly leaving behind a dull ache.

“Thanks.” Villanelle murmurs as Irina ties the makeshift sling around her neck and sets the frozen pea bag gently on her shoulder. “Where did you learn to do that?”

“Papa sent me to a Wilderness Survival class last week, a physical therapist came and taught us, well the sling making part anyway. I was watching a rerun of ER last night and they were resetting a shoulder.”

“Oh great, well _Dr. I-Got my MD from TV_ , it still hurts by the way.” Villanelle says sarcastically. Irina raises an eyebrow.

“Less than before.” Villanelle admits grudgingly and makes for the popcorn bowl again, this time pain-free and successful.

After the rose ceremony Villanelle leans over and clicks off the TV. It’s dusk and the street lamps flicker on.

“You better get home before your dad comes looking for you, I’m not in the mood for him to come barging in.”

“You’re not going to walk me home?” asks Irina shrugging into her coat. “I am vulnerable you know.”

There’s a dish near the door with keys, loose change and other things. Villanelle fishes around in it and pulls out what looks like a pen.

“This is my favorite switchblade, it’s a loan.”

Irina looks delighted and gives her a tight hug.

“Yeah, yeah, watch the shoulder.” says Villanelle extracting herself but her mouth curves into a smile.

“You should really go get the shoulder checked out anyway.” Irina says flicking open the blade with alarming precision. “Oh speaking of, I think I still have that woman’s card here somewhere.” She digs around in her pocket and produces a small card that she hands over.

“She doesn’t really know how to interact with children either, I think you’d like her.” Irina waves farewell and makes her way into the hall and down the stairs.

Villanelle looks down at the card. It's a plain white stock card embossed with dark blue lettering that reads “Eve Polastri’s Physical Therapy Group.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thought process that led me to write this: Sweeney Todd: The Demon on Fleet Street (on my rewatch) is one weird, dramatic, darkly funny musicals. What if KE was set in this universe?
> 
> Let me know what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let's see what Eve's been up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Niko, Bill and Elena makes appearances here.

“And one, and two, and three, and four, and five.” Eve counts, watching the man in front of her lean forward attempting to touch his toes. _Pathetic_ , Eve thinks surveying him. The man’s hands barely reached his knees and he was red in the face and straining. She gets to “And ten, and rest.” watching him slump back in relief.

“How do you feel now Henry?” asked Eve coming forward and bending his knee slowly.

“Sore but looser.” Henry said leaning back on his elbows.

“Okay let’s pick it up again tomorrow yes?” Eve says picking up the spray bottle and cloth to wipe down the exercise mat.

“Sounds good, hey there's a new pub that opened down the street, fancy a drink?" Henry asks shouldering his bag.

"Oh that's nice of offer but I'm married and you're still my client." Eve replies giving another squirt on the mat at the imprint of Henry's butt sweat marks.

"Oh sorry, I just noticed you weren't wearing a ring." Henry backtracks quickly.

"Oh it's fine," Eve says waving the mistake away. "I just prefer to wear mine on my neck for work." she pulls out a silver chain with a wedding band dangling on it. The truth was even though she had told Niko wearing on a chain was for work purposes Eve had never put the ring back on her finger since she started her practice.

"Make sure to do those stretches before bed."

"Yes ma'am." Henry waves a goodbye as he walks out.

Eve locks the glass door, pulls the blinds and heads to the back where her car is parked. Sliding in, she sits up straight for a moment and then slumps into the curve of the seat. She sighs with relief and feels a little joy at the rebellious notion of breaking all of her physical therapy guidelines for seating she constantly tells her clients. _Pathetic_ , Eve thinks to herself. _This is the most exciting part of your day now?_ Shoving her internal judgmental commentator aside she turns on the car she plugs her phone. To her delight, My Favorite Murder podcast had a new episode. She pulled out of the parking lot and makes her way home. However, even the chatter of Karen and Georgia through her speakers couldn’t stem the flow of thoughts that invaded her mind. Eve hit the pause button and allowed her thoughts to once again replay the events of how she got to this point in her life.

Eve Polastri loved crime. She had even gotten a degree in criminology and had gotten her dream job at MI6 right out of school. However the idea of becoming a field agent was short-lived. Her constant challenging of authority, rash decision-making and lack of adherence to protocol caused disruptions one too many times and it seemed like Frank was just looking for an excuse to fire her. Her final evaluation included the comment: Eve needs to work on managing her emotions in situations of conflict. Eve’s response, aloud to Frank in the final meeting was.

“Well I wouldn’t have to manage my emotions if there wasn't a conflict, dickswab.”

Being dismissed from her dream job had been a hard blow. It felt like the death of a loved one and Eve proceeded accordingly through all the stages of grief.

Denial: Eve’s internal clock hadn’t changed and she awoke constantly for weeks thinking she was going off to work. Her dreams were filled with mugshots, yellow caution tape and the rush of “getting the bad guy.”  
Anger: Eve would try and get her previous coworkers to dish on any cases they were working on. Despite indulging them with pastries before work and drinks after work they all remained tight-lipped. It left Eve fuming at the end of the day.  
Bargaining: She tried convincing Frank to take her back, he blocked her number after the twenty-third voicemail.  
Depression: One of Eve’s favorite places was the bath. She would sit in it for hours, watching her skin shrivel and only got out when she no longer could stand the chill of the once hot water.  
Acceptance: It happened at Bill’s Christmas party. Despite Eve’s months of pestering Bill still valued her company at his annual Christmas party. They were on their fifth glass of eggnog when Bill turned to her and said wistfully,

“I miss you at the office.”

At that point Eve had also wondered if she was even missed. She proceeded to drunkenly wail until she scared away the other guests and Niko had to come and carry her to the car. Once the hangover wore off the next day all that was left was a feeling of determination to find something new to be good at.

Although she did her best for a few weeks Eve was fired from being a housewife. She tried but ultimately always failed at cooking. She preferred to hire cleaning services than do it herself and sex with Niko was few and far between and on the whole was underwhelming. Finally, after a particularly bad fight, Niko had told her sternly that she needed to find something new and this attempt-to-be-a-housewife thing was over. Either fortunately or unfortunately, Eve had minored in kinesiology which enabled her to get into a fast-tracked physical therapy program. Over the next year Eve had grown to like her new job, it was incredibly different from her old one. The only mysteries to solve were how to get a muscle or tendon to reach its full capacity. She also decided to pour the majority of her savings and open up a practice of her own. Life with Niko returned to normal and Eve barely thought about her old career for a while. Everything was fine. Her new career was going fine. She and Niko were fine. Her life was fine and this is how she coped with the loss of her dream job, by listening to a true crime podcast and reading thriller novels late into the night. Eve was just fine.

“Fine.” Eve says aloud as she pulls into her parking spot. The silence in the car is loud with the thoughts of the past.

Eve walks into the kitchen and finds a note from Niko saying he’s out at bridge club and there’s Indian in the fridge. Popping it into the microwave, Eve spoons some lime pickle into her mouth while she waits. Her phone shakes twice on the table. Assuming it's Niko texting to direct to where the food is, _Sometimes he treats me like an inept teenager_ , Eve thinks as she picks up the phone.  
It’s a google notification that a new client by the name of Alexandra Dumont would like to book an appointment for tomorrow at 2pm. Eve hits “Accept” and pours herself a generous helping of wine just as the microwave dings. She’ll be the only one in the office tomorrow. There were two other therapists that worked with her but Eve usually prefers to be one-on-one with her clients.  
Eve pretends to be asleep when Niko comes home not in the mood for another boring monologue about his bridge club mates. She feels the mattress sink as he gets into bed. She’s never felt more alone in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found Eve challenging to write for, hope I did okay. I'm finding her almost as complex as Villanelle in an entirely different way.  
> Phew, done with the kind of introductory chapters. Onto more plot next :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle's first session with Eve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I find Eve challenging to write for? Yes. What was my solution? Split the chapters between Villanelle's and Eve's POVs. The chapters will probably continue this way.

_**Villanelle** _

Villanelle envies those who have the capability of sleeping in. Her previous training wired her internal clock to truly only needs 4 hours of sleep. However she often stays in bed for at least another hour, doing other activities just to spite it. It’s 4:48am according to her phone. She lies in bed for a moment staring up at the empty ceiling. Taking some deep breaths, she tries to prepare herself and then rolls over. Her lower back screams in protest and sends shock waves of pain out to her peripheral nerves that leave Villanelle gasping into her pillow, muffling the sound even though no one else is around. She lays on her side for a moment and then attempts to prop herself up. Her newly relocated shoulder burns and threatens to pop out again. Tears form in Villanelle’s eyes as a reaction to the sudden assault of pain but she brushes them away and pushes herself into a seated position. She hobbles in an awkward half-crouch to the shower and lets the scalding water cascade over her body in relentless pressure. She breathes in the steam and looks down while slowly straightening up as her muscles loosen. She imagines the rivulets of water are made up of her pain washing away.

Preferring to drip-dry Villanelle steps back into her bedroom naked. She stops in front of her full length mirror, as she does every morning and examines her reflection. From the front her body looks as it once was, unblemished, toned and in her opinion, undeniably beautiful. Doing a slow half turn Villanelle’s face grows dark, more clinical as her eyes fall upon the ruin of her back. A great ugly scar begins at her left shoulder, tearing its way down her back and ending at the cusp of her right hip. Gleaming white scar tissue is stretched tight, parts of it framed in red irritated skin and the whole thing seems to pulsate as it cools from the heat of the shower. Moving quickly before she is left feeling cold Villanelle dries off, slips on a pair of shorts and tank top, unrolls her yoga mat and begins. She resents her broken body, resents the life she now leads because of it, resents that it’s reduced her morning, to a mind-numbingly boring routine. Most of all she resents that not stretching will make for a miserable day. Her shoulder hurts and Villanelle tries to put it back in a sling but gives up quickly when it’s not as good as Irina’s and puts her shoulder at an even more uncomfortable angle. She figures Eve will have a better one than a cut up pillowcase.

The morning passes by quickly with a few customers. Villanelle’s hair salon is by appointment only (for obvious reasons) but she offers walk-ins on Saturdays for shaves. Despite their misgivings about her being a woman, men have found Villanelle to be quite adept with a straight razor. She concurs and it's one of the few moments where she's acknowledged a male assessment of her. It takes skill to nick the carotid artery in just the right place so the blood pours out in a fine arc into a nearby bucket. She knows Raymond will appreciate the gesture. Villanelle returns home and prepares for her first physical therapy session with Eve, donning a hot pink tracksuit and braiding her hair into a ponytail. The address is just two blocks from her apartment and it’s a sunny day so Villanelle decides to walk. She watches Eve from across the street for a while as she sits outside a cafe, sipping on a strawberry milkshake. Eve is not what Villanelle expected for a physical therapist. Amused, Villanelle has counted that Eve has tripped over equipment she’s setting up three times, moves awkwardly and yet moves with purpose. Tossing her empty milkshake cup into a nearby trashcan Villanelle makes her way across the street and steps into the waiting room.

_**Eve** _

_Well she’s certainly objectively attractive_ , Eve thinks as she watched the willowy figure approach, this must be Alexandra. However it wasn’t her honey blonde hair, or her full lips or the way she moved with almost a lethal kind of grace that caught Eve’s attention. It was the woman’s eyes, they were a mixture of mesmerizing blue and gray hues. The most intriguing thing about them was that although they were the exact opposite color-wise of Eve’s they had an almost empty quality to them. _No_ , Eve thought. _Not empty_. It was as though an emotional opaque curtain had been drawn just past the woman’s pupils, giving nothing away. It was an almost unnerving effect, an inaccessible gaze entirely focused on Eve. Realizing she’s been staring for more than an appropriate amount of time Eve held out a hand.

“Hi, you must be Alexandra.”

“Yes, that’s me, and you must be Eve.” her face breaking into a polite smile. Eve nods and returns the smile.

“Come this way.” Eve leads the woman into the back telling her to go ahead and makes herself comfortable on the exam table while she goes to her desk and grabs a clipboard.

“Now what brings you in today?” Eve inquires.

“Well I dislocated my shoulder yesterday at work. My coworker was being a dick and dropped his end of a heavy bag of flour we were lifting together and that’s when it popped out. I came home and there’s a girl I babysit who helped me put it back and gave me your card. She said you taught her how to make a sling in a wilderness class.”

“Oh yes, is her name Irina?” Eve asks standing and walking over. “May I see your shoulder?”

“Sure” Alexandra unzips the tracksuit and shrugs out of it, revealing an unmistakably toned figure clad in a white tank top.

“I remember Irina, she was the only child in that class, she was also better than most adults there.” Eve continues, taking Alexandra’s left hand and guiding the arm upward, extending it gently and watching the shoulder move. Eve can see there is obvious swelling but it’s been set properly.

“Well she did a good job of setting your shoulder.”

“Yes Irina is one of those annoyingly profound children.”

Eve laughs and moves around to examine the shoulder from the back.

“Oh my god.” Eve gasps almost dropping the Alexandra’s hand. There’s a massive scar running down the young woman’s back that the tank top does little to conceal its severity. Eve watches the woman automatically stiffen.

“It’s just an old wound Eve, it barely hurts.” Alexandra says with a slight shrug of her right shoulder.

Eve steps closer, reaching out. It’s almost as if the woman senses Eve’s hand before it touches her. Alexandra whips around, grabbing Eve’s wrist in a gentle but firm grasp.

“You shouldn’t touch people without asking.” Eve stares into the woman's eyes, frozen. Alexandra's eyes are even more captivating up close. On the surface they're focused with deadly precision on Eve's but deeper they have a lost look to them mingling with pain. 

She releases Eve's wrist and unwinds slowly, Eve hears a barely perceptible gasp escape the woman's lips. She waits for a moment and then Eve walks around and sits down in front of the woman.

“I am sorry. I was just a little shocked. You’re right, I won’t ever do something like that again without asking you first.”

Alexandra stares at Eve for a moment and then nods.

“That’s a good apology format.”

Eve has a million questions burning in her mind but it’s clear from the woman’s body language as she pulls the tracksuit jacket back on that that injury isn’t up for discussion. Eve debates on pushing Alexandra on it for a moment but something warns her not to. She relents and moves on.

“So, let’s talk more about your options for shoulder physical therapy.”

The hour comes to an end and they agree on weekly sessions for the next month. Together they compare calendars and plan out the sessions. “

How does the 25th work?” asks Alexandra her thumb pausing in its scrolling.

“Ahh I wish but it’s my husband’s birthday party and I promised him I would behave and stay the entire time, unlike last year.” Eve sighs, barely containing an eyeroll.

“What happened last year?” Alexandra stops swiveling in her ergonomic chair and leans forward.

“Well it only started a couple years ago but since then my husband, Niko, has held an annual shepherd’s pie convention to celebrate his birthday. Everyone we invite is expected to bring their own shepherd’s pie and participate in the tasting.” Eve says the last sentence in an exaggerated recited tone.

“I confess I hate shepherd’s pie. It’s kind of just like eating a gloopy mess of potatoes, meat and cut up vegetables. Niko douses his in Worcester sauce which he claims is the oh so secret ingredient.”

Alexandra nods, listening in rapture.

“Last year I was a little too bored, a little too wine drunk and left the party and went to get Korean barbecue, where he found me hours later. I promised this year I would contribute my own shepherd’s pie, do you know of any good bakeries that do them?”

“Actually there is one right below my hair salon. I’ll text you the address right now.” says Alexandra an odd smile on her face as she types.

“Oh you’re a hairdresser?” says Eve making a final note on her clipboard.

“Maybe I’ll stop by and have you see what you can do with this mess.” she laughs and takes her hair tie out fluffing out her hair. Alexandra stares, eyes growing wide.

“What?” Eve asked, looking concerned. “Do I have something in my hair?”

“You should wear it down more often.” is the only reply that came.

Eve spends the rest of the day thinking about Alexandra. She climbs into bed, kisses Niko goodnight and rolls over. Her head filled with questions she determined to have answers to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally made up Niko's birth date. If anyone knows what it is actually leave a comment :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve goes to buy a pie and discovers something.

_**Eve** _

Eve smells the bakehouse before she sees it. The aromatic scent of meat and herbs waft through the air, beckoning. From the outside it looks just as you would expect a bakery to look. White-washed wicker chairs with linen pillow cushions and glass top tables line up outside under the awning adorned with a string of English flags. The top of the building was the most dull thing about the entire building and stood out even more starkly against the lower level. It was a loft sort of looking area with huge skylight windows. The bakery front door is glass, decorated with that old ice cream parlor font giving it an old 80’s theme. It reads ‘Raymond’s Bakery: more than just pies’ Eve pushes open the door which lets out a musical jingle.

The walls are lined with loaves of bread freshly baked. An assortment of cookies and pastries beam out from their display cases. The whole thing looked like someone had too much time on their hands and perfected all the Bake Off’s challenges. After perusing at her leisure Eve approaches the empty counter, a bell labeled ‘HELP LOL (lots of love)' in black sharpie sits next to the cash register. _Odd_ , Eve thinks as she taps the bell tentatively. A man’s voice calls from the back.

“Villanelle, I swear on my ugly children if you ring that goddamn bell one more time I’ll-” The figure steps around the corner and cuts off upon seeing Eve.

The bakery may be cute. The man behind the counter is most decidedly not. He is of average build, maybe mid forties, already balding and carrying a container of what looks like butchered pork.

“Give me a moment.” he grunts and heaves the container up onto the back table setting it beside what looks like a meat grinder.

He proceeds to load some pieces of meat onto a small conveyor that carries them to the grinder and pushes a button to start the whole process. Red wriggling worms of meat appear on the other side dropping lifelessly into a chafing dish.

“Well hello there, welcome to Raymond’s pie shop. I’m Raymond. How may I help you?” he says wiping his hands on his apron. His beady eyes survey Eve as though wondering if she were a pie what kind would she be.

Eve was watching the meat grinding process in fascination. It’s both slowly violent and mesmerizing. She blinks and focuses on Raymond.

“Umm, yes, do you do shepherd’s pies?”

“Oh yes,” Raymond smiles widely. “They’re one of my specialties. Actually one of the first pies I ever made was of a shepherd.”

“Great, can I place an order for one, pick up on the 25th?”

“Certainly.” Raymond takes a pad and writes down the order.

Eve rummages in her bag for her purse. Frustrated she begins pulling out the contents of her bag, laying it out on the counter. Hand sanitizer, loose change, tissues that looks used but are in fact clean, a hair-clip, two pens and finally,

“Ah-ha!” She smiled in triumph and produced her purse setting it on the table.

Raymond was on the other side of the counter looking critically at the conga line of assorted objects. Suddenly there was a loud creaking of metal, like a rusty lever being pulled coming the ceiling followed by an echoing repetitive thud as something heavy made its way down and thudded into the backroom.

“I see you found your purse.” Raymond says nonchalantly as if he hadn’t heard anything.

“Is everything okay?” Eve says incredulously gesturing to the ceiling and looking towards the back room.

Raymond shifts blocking the view even though there is a plastic curtain which only incites more suspicion in Eve.

“Oh yes, excuse the racket. There’s a hair salon upstairs, Villanelle often makes such terrible noise with her hair tools and such up there.”

“Villanelle?” Eve asks, red flags popping up in her mind.

“Yes, quite the drama queen. I regret ever renting the space up there to her.” Raymond huffs turning back to the meat grinder and turning it off.

“Are there other hairdressers as well or is it just this Villanelle?”

Eve can already guess the answer. _Villanelle_. The woman’s eyes followed by the rest of her blooms into focus in Eve’s mind. _Villanelle_. As fake as that name sounds, it seems more suited to her than “Alexandra.”

“It’s just her but she’s very booked. I suggest calling.” Raymond says looking at Eve closely. “Cash or credit?”

Eve’s mind is whirling as she finishes the transaction with an even more dodgy Raymond. She heads out of the pie shop and walks around the building. Around the second corner Eve comes to a small open space where a car is parked and a wooden staircase leading up to the loft door. Someone is up there whistling. Eve follows the sound up the stairs.

**_Villanelle_ **

Villanelle whistles the tune of James Brown’s ‘I Got You’ as she mops up the blood. She was right of course. The new chair mechanism is flawless. It would have been less of a mess if she had only nicked one carotid artery. However she wanted to see what the blood splatter was like with both of them. She spins the mop around with the chorus and does a little two step. Feeling a slight breeze from the doorway she turns and sees Eve watching her with her arms crossed.

“Hi Eve.” She smiles and continues mopping.

“Hi Villanelle.” Eve says, stepping in.

She stops and looks up at Eve, cocking her head.

“Ha! I knew you were smart. How did you find out?”

“Raymond.”

“Ugh, he’s the worst.” she mops the floor more vigorously. The smell of bleach was pungent in the air.

“You lied to me about your name being Alexandra and you expect me to believe your real name is Villanelle?” Eve scoffs, hands on her hips.

“It’s the name I gave to myself.” Eve steps into Villanelle’s mopping path forcing her to stop.

“You realize I’m going to need more of an explanation than that. Also what was the thing that fell just now that I heard all the way from downstairs?”

“Look, my boss doesn’t know I’m seeing you and he’s a little particular about who knows about me, I cut a lot of high-profile people’s hair.”

Villanelle lets out a scoff of her own, internally. The truth was that Villanelle was no longer given high-profile cases. Those required a more able bodied person than she was currently and in her line of work filing for worker’s comp was code for a death sentence. It had ultimately been by the grace of the divine being that was Konstantin that she was still in business and alive. Konstantin had found her and her mangled body and brought her home. She didn’t know what was worse, the recovery or having to spend hours with Irina. From her eavesdropping on Konstantin, as well as bribing Irina with promises of how to make a booby trap, Villanelle gathered that there had been some reshuffling of the Twelve after her incident in France. Some dude called Raymond was being given to Konstantin as a favor. It turned out that Konstantin had decided to take a more entrepreneurial route with the circumstances. Over dinner one night it was discovered that Raymond was a baker and Villanelle had just given Irina a haircut. A few weeks later Konstantin had laid out the plan and the scheme began. It had been going smoothly, well boring, in Villanelle's opinion, up until this point.

“As for the noise, I spilled my stock of henna dye.” Villanelle continues smoothly. “There’s an old chute that goes to the bakery. I use it to send my trashbags down to the first floor.”

“Okay, sure.” Eve says, sounding unconvinced.

Villanelle sighs internally. This would have never happened if she was by herself. She decides she doesn’t care to come up with a better cover story, in fact, the thought of Eve paying even more attention to her is an enticing idea.

“Would you like to join me for lunch?” Villanelle says as she wrings the mop out, propping it up.

“I’m not hungry and I don’t think that’s appro-” Eve’s stomach makes a loud undignified gurgle cutting her off.

“Fine.” Eve murmurs blushing. Villanelle smirks.

“I’m just going to change and then we’ll head out. Feel free to sit. The chair is new and quite comfortable.”

As Villanelle changes she peeks around the corner. She is immensely pleased that Eve is in fact not sitting but walking around the room, she always found people who followed rules to be quite boring. Villanelle shakes her hair out of its low bun and steps out of the backroom just as Eve edges dangerously close to the concealed trap door. She leans against the doorway and calls out.

“Okay, I’m ready.”

Eve’s reaction does not disappoint. She stops in her tracks, her eyes grow wide and travel down Villanelle’s entire length. Villanelle revels under Eve’s gaze. Eve was in luck. Originally she was supposed to be meeting Konstantin for their weekly lunch at the Park Plaza, he would survive without her. Today she had donned an ice blue suit with a fitted blazer draped around her shoulders decorated with a mother of pearl disks lining the lapels and sleeves. Ivory white kitten heels and a simple gold chain necklace hung around her neck, finishing off the look.

“This is what you wear out to lunch?” Eve gawks, blinking several times.

“Oh,” Villanelle waves dismissively and beckons Eve to follow her out the door. “This one of my old favorites.”

They end up at a charming cafe that is oddly guinea pig themed but the food is nonetheless delicious.

“Thank you.” Villanelle says to the waitress examining the woman’s ass as she walks away with their plates.

“Do you think she’s pretty?” Eve asks. Villanelle turns back and finds Eve also starring after the retreating figure.

“I like pretty things.” Villanelle replies, taking a sip of water. “Men, women, whomever, whatever.”

“You’re drawn to things that make you feel something.” Eve says, almost to herself and then catching Villanelle’s eye. “Like you’re not looking for a type of person, you’re looking for a particular feeling.”

**************

On the one hand she’s delighted to find that Eve seems to be one of the few people that can hold her attention, filling her mind that is usually an empty void. On the other, feeling understood is a rarity for Villanelle. It’s like Eve verbally undressed her and then put her clothes back on and sent her on her way. It was unsettling. These thoughts flickered through Villanelle’s mind as she admires the way the breeze combs through Eve’s hair. Eve may be interesting but she’s also one of the most oblivious people Villanelle has ever stalked. After parting ways Villanelle had double backed and returned to the cafe. She stripped off the suit in the bathroom revealing a casual jogger outfit and visor. The waiter was busy mid argument with a guy almost as annoying as Raymond and barely noticed her. Villanelle quickly caught up and now she’s watching Eve through a window. Eve is busy scribbling, a giant cork board is propped up behind her filled with sticky notes. Some of them linked with string and others Villanelle can tell are just labeled with a question mark. Her phone buzzes in her pocket. It’s Konstantin. _Come home._ is all it says.

“Rut row.” Villanelle mutters mimicking Scooby Doo giving Eve one last glance before walking away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I've now made sort of an outline for the rest of this story. Also AHHHHHHHHH Season 3 is in 10 days!!!!!  
> Also I am aware that this is one weird idea for a fanfic, tell me your thoughts and feelings :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Villanelle gets worried Eve isn’t giving her enough attention.

**_Villanelle_ **

“You know, letting yourself into my apartment and making yourself at home isn’t intimidating by the way. It’s just rude.” Villanelle says, eyeing Konstantin. 

Raymond steps out from behind him and she feels her face morphs into exasperation. They are all in the living room. Raymond and Konstantin looked disproportionately out of place, like over-sized big bear and little bear taxidermy statues.

“You brought him here?” 

“This is where you live?” Raymond strolls around, picking up a snow globe. 

“Get your grubby hands off that.” Villanelle snaps. 

Raymond lets it go in response and the snow globe falls to the floor and shatters. Villanelle lunges at him and they proceed to scuffle. Konstantin watches for a moment and then comments.

“You two are more immature than my own daughter.”

Raymond slips on the snow globe water and Villanelle lands on top of him casually pressing down on his windpipe with her foot until he yields. 

“Raymond is here because I’ve called a business meeting.” Konstantin says heading to the kitchen. 

“Fine, just let me go change first.” She saunters off and then says over her shoulder. “I’ll have some tea.”

“Can I have some?” Raymond pipes up.

“Shut up.” Konstantin and Villanelle say in unison.

Villanelle returns a few minutes later in a charcoal grey suit with a bright red silk pocket square, gold V cuff-links, dragonfly earrings and freshly shined shoes. Raymond rolls his eyes. Villanelle flips him off. Konstantin ignores them both and slides a steaming mug to Villanelle before taking a seat.

“Did you know that Eve Polastri used to be an MI6 agent?”

“Did you know Eve Polastri is a physical therapist now?” Mimicking him in almost perfect intonation.

“She knows your name Villanelle.” Konstantin waggles a finger in the air.

“I was planning on telling her eventually. ” 

Konstantin looks at her, his right eye twitching. 

“I don’t care.” she says with a shrug. Villanelle turns to Raymond. “Anyway you’re the one who let slip my name and I have yet to forgive you for breaking my shoulder.”

“Enlighten me.” murmurs into his mug, looking into it as though contemplating whether he could drown himself.

“Raymond and I were cleaning up, and he purposely dropped his end of the body and it made my shoulder pop out.”

“And then you broke my nose.” Raymond snaps back. “It was my best feature.” 

“You don't have a best feature.” 

“So this Eve Polastri.” Raymond leans towards Konstantin, a slight smile playing on his face. “Is this something we’re going to be taking care of?”

Villanelle picks up her mug and then tosses its contents at Raymond. Tea soaks Raymond who is on his feet in an instant, glowering. 

“ENOUGH!” barks Konstantin. “Raymond you can go. I have some things to discuss with Villanelle. I’ll find you later.” 

Raymond slams the door on his way out. 

Konstantin produces a switchblade from his pocket. Villanelle happily reaches for it. He puts a hand over hers before she can pull away. 

“In the future would you please refrain from sending my daughter home with blades, knives or any other sharp object from your collection of weapons.” 

“I was enabling her to protect herself.” Villanelle shrugs and slides out of Konstantin’s grasp. “You were going to have her walk home with a broken assassin, she was better off by herself.” Her voice catching on the word ‘broken’.

Konstantin looks at her for a moment. He pulls out a file, keeping his hand on it. 

“Has Eve Polastri been helping you?”

“My shoulder doesn’t hurt anymore.” Villanelle says drawing a picture on the table with her spilled tea.

“Have you told her about your back?”

“No.”

“Maybe you should.”

Villanelle raises an eyebrow. 

“Aw Konstantin you do care about me.”

“Well you’re even more unmanageable when you’re in pain so I see this as also being a good thing for everyone that has to interact with you.” he says gruffly. 

Konstantin slides over the file and pats her hand. 

“This was her old team at MI6. My contact tells me they’ve reopened the French Incident. Don’t draw attention.” 

She kisses him on the cheek and waves him out the door. Villanelle sighs flicking through the file. After a few moments she pushes it away. The perks of a photographic memory is that when she does occasionally decide to read something she only has to do it once. Her phone emits a ding, a reminder that her last therapy session with Eve is in thirty minutes. Villanelle flexes her shoulder. She can already tell that Eve will say she has almost full range of motion back and should just continue her home exercises. 

The thought of not seeing Eve anymore fills Villanelle with an odd feeling. There she goes with feelings again. Villanelle does a full body twitch. Well perhaps _not seeing_ is incorrect since she could, very easily, continue to stalk Eve and watch her from afar. The feeling is more like it wouldn’t be the same, not getting to speak to her, not having her speak to you, not keeping up the relationship or whatever was going on between them. Villanelle had always been comfortable in her void until Eve. Eve filled that void to the brim, it was overwhelming, wonderfully strange, unpredictable and held infinite definitions. No matter what Villanelle knew for certain that she wanted to keep seeing, or rather _feeling_ , with Eve. 

Villanelle grumbles as she gets ready for therapy, she hates it when Konstantin is right. 

*******************************************

“Well you passed all the tests with flying colors.” Eve says taking the dumb bell back she had given to Villanelle for a final strength test. 

“Obviously.” Villanelle responds, Eve rolls her eyes. 

“So you should still continue those home exercises we went through and let me know if you have any more problems.” 

Eve goes over to her computer and makes a note. Villanelle watches her for a moment and then pulls her tank top off over her head and waits for Eve to finish typing. 

“Oh my god Villanelle what are you doing?” Eve looks straight at her breasts which are encompassed in barely enough lace to qualify as a bra and then looks back at her computer with intense ferocity. 

“What do you think?” Villanelle asks turning slowly, a smirk on her face. 

“I think you should put your shirt back on.” says Eve in an unconvincing tone still concentrating on her computer.

“No I mean what do you think about my back?”

Eve looks up warily. Villanelle sighs, sometimes Eve can be so slow on the uptake, she thinks. 

“I would like you to help me become less inhibited by this.” Villanelle attempts to gesture at her scar. Eve comes up behind her slowly. 

“Uh okay.” Eve’s eyes are glued to her back, her gaze trailing downward. 

“How did you get-”

Villanelle clasps Eve’s hands in her own. Eve’s hands are quite smooth, Villanelle wonders what kind of moisturizer she uses. 

“I’ll answer all your questions, except that one. Gotta keep the mystery alive somehow.” she finishes with a wink.

Eve rolls her eyes and throws Villanelle’s white and blue seersucker shirt to her.

“We can discuss things over tapas. I’m starving.”

Villanelle smiles and pulls on her shirt. 

********************************************************

On their way to lunch Villanelle and Eve pass a stroller carrying a babbling baby.

“Do you want kids one day?” Eve asks. 

“No, but I liked the idea of having the power to name a person. I named myself, but Oksana will always be there as well. I like the names Cain and Abel.” 

Villanelle glances at Eve who is determinedly staring straight ahead but she can those woman’s thoughts spinning miles ahead with that information. Villanelle loves dropping breadcrumbs of information and watching Eve hold onto them like they're the most precious thing in the world. Occasionally she still follows Eve home and sees the status of the cork board. An interesting note Villanelle mentally files away is that when Eve is done with her most recent sticky note she hides the cork board behind a bookshelf in her home office. She must not want Niko to find out, Villanelle thinks. Interesting. Eve blinks coming out of her reservoir and then says.

“So he would either be named after the world’s first murderer or the world’s first murder victim?” 

“Survival of the fittest?”

Eve laughs. Villanelle finds herself genuinely smiling. She can’t remember the last time she did that. 

*****************************************************

Eve is distracted at lunch. After quizzing her on her back injury Eve jumps straight into her old job. She hasn’t revealed that she’s a former MI6 agent but she keeps rambling on about her old coworkers, Bill and Elena in particular. To refrain from revealing to Eve that she’s read all of their files Villanelle attempts to keep her mouth constantly full of food. Finally Eve seems to notice and says.

“You’re quiet today.” 

Desperate at this point to get Eve onto any other topic than her old MI6 job Villanelle swallows and decides to switch the conversation to perhaps her least favorite person.

“Niko’s birthday is this weekend right?” 

Eve nods with her mouth full of hummus and dives into her bag pulling out a pen and writes on her hand. She swallows and says,

“Yes, it is. Thank you for reminding me that I need to pick up that shepherd’s pie.”

Villanelle wrinkles her nose. “Raymond’s pies are the worst.”

“You recommended them.”

“Yes, I also recommend not eating them. Show me a picture of Niko.”

Eve scrolls through her phone for a moment before handing it over. 

“Hmmm, I see fudge and I see a mustache.”

“Hey!” Eve protests snatching the phone back. “That’s my husband.”

Villanelle shrugs and drains her water glass. 

“He could use a haircut and a mustache trim. You can send him to me if you’d like.” 

“Oh really?”

“Yeah,” Villanelle says with perfected fake enthusiasm. “Referrals get first cut free.”

“I know you just made that up but thank you and I’ll take you up on the offer. He’ll love it. He always likes getting dressed up for his party. It’s black tie this year.” Eve says with an eye roll.

“Tell me what you like about him.” Villanelle continues scraping the last of the moussaka on her plate. 

“Well he’s….he’s….” Eve pauses searching for words. “He’s kind, caring, a good guy…” Eve goes on to list other characteristics of Niko that Villanelle has no interest in and then she ends with,

“and he makes me feel safe.”

Villanelle leans forward, he eyes fastening on Eve’s dark ones.

“Do you want to feel safe?”

“I used to. I don’t know anymore.” Eve stares back.

“How do I make you feel?”

“I feel. Wide awake.”

************************************

After taking a luxurious cat nap Villanelle throws on one of her favorite suits, a blue and purple checked Dries Van Noten suit she picked up in Berlin and puts the switchblade into one of its pockets. 

Strolling through the streets she spots a curiously average looking man that seems almost familiar to her. Ahh yes, Bill. Eve’s old coworkers who, from the way Eve talks about him over lunch is the one she misses the most from her old job. She never reminisces about the past, why would anyone waste thinking about what can’t change is beyond her. Konstantin’s voice pipes up, _don’t_ _draw attention_. Ignoring it she starts towards Bill while also thinking about the latest London club that is opening tonight that she wanted to check out. The suit makes her feel like her old self, perhaps that’s her way of reminiscing. 

**_Eve_ **

Eve eases herself into her bed doing her best not to disturb the sleeping form of Niko. Just as she’s getting settled he stirs. 

“When did you come to bed last night?” he murmurs into the pillow. 

“It was pretty late and I ended up sleeping on the couch because I kept on getting up to go to the bathroom. I think I have a UTI.”

“Oh.” Niko says.

_Lies._ thought Eve. _Lies._ She had been up all night story boarding. She had felt the old thrill of working on a case, it was almost intoxicating, it felt so good. Currently the cork board was just post-its, string and scribbles. Eve’s online research had, unsurprisingly, yielded almost nothing. Another nagging feeling had crept in just now as well. The last time she lied to Niko was when she was an MI6 agent. She would constantly play down the case, the traveling, the danger. Another fact she had forgotten about that was resurfacing was that Niko didn’t understand her work. She couldn’t really come home and tell Niko all about her day. It was always vague, out of necessity but also because he wouldn’t understand. Understand her fascination. Understand her passion. He was concerned for her yes, but that was it. 

“Well I’ve got to go.” Niko leans over to kiss her. 

“And good morning to you Mr. Morning Breath.” she leans away just as his mustache tickles her lips. His smile dims a bit but he accepts and gets out of bed. 

After a moment she gets up as well and wanders back to her study. Her cork board is glorious. It’s like the inside of her brain on display. Sticky notes align in clusters connected with her favorite red string. She looks at it for a moment and then walks up, drawing a string connecting Villanelle and the word ‘pies’. There’s a knock on her study. Eve grabs the board and wrestles it back behind the bookshelf.

“Eve?” Niko’s voice calls. “Do you want some coffee?”

“Hang on! I’m naked!” Eve hollers back. _What? Why would you say that?_

The cork-board finally slides in and Eve yanks down her pajama pants just as Niko pushes open the door.

“You’re naked? Why are you naked in the study?”

“Looking at my vagina, I actually think it’s a yeast infection.”

“Oh, okay.” Niko looks perturbed but nods his head. His knowledge of the female body is, like any average man, minimal. 

“Um well I think there’s some Canesten left over from um, last time.” 

Eve blinks. She had no idea that Niko even knew what that was for, let alone the name. He’s always a bit more perceptive than she tends to give him credit for. Just as she's taking her first sip of coffee her phone rings. Eve is expecting Villanelle but is happily surprised when Elena’s face populates the screen.

“Elena! Hi!” 

“Eve do you know what day it is?” Elena’s cheerful voice chirps back. 

“Um Friday?”

“No silly it’s our croissant anniversary.”

“Ha indeed.” Eve remembers the day well. 

It had been only Elena’s second day on the job and she had been so nervous she shoved a croissant in Eve’s hand immediately upon seeing her. After that a beautiful friendship had blossomed from there. 

“We should go out.”

“Yes, dinner?” 

“Absolutely. Let’s say The Indian Room at 7?” 

Eve is in a particularly good mood and sends Niko off with a lingering goodbye kiss and heads off to her therapy session with Villanelle. 

****************************************************************

Full of hummus and olives Eve breezes through the door of her home and up the stairs to her study. Writing ‘Oksana’ on a post-it she presses it against the cork-board under ‘Villanelle.’ Her mind is whirling. _Oksana. Oksana. Oksana_. What was Oksana’s story? What happened to Oksana? When did Oksana become Villanelle? Moreover what happened to Villanelle? Eve takes a notepad and begins scribbling furiously everything she can remember from her lunch conversation: 

  * Obtained injury last summer
  * Got stitched up by a veterinarian (Villanelle assured her that the guy was vetted and gave her a puppy to play with during treatment since horse tranquilizers were in fact not fit for use on the human body)
  * Regularly stretches in the morning after a shower (“It gets very steamy.” Villanelle comments, raising an eyebrow suggestively causing Eve to blush)
  * Chronic redness at both end points, shoulder and hip



Eve closes her eyes. The scar is seared into her mind’s eye. The wound must have been made by a blade of some sort because of its precise line and it lacked the jagged edging of animal claws or teeth. Eve spent the next few hours adding to her cork-board and drawing up Villanelle’s care plan. She sighs, she needs more information. Were she still at MI6 she would have access to a plethora of data that her home computer simply lacks access to. She looked at the clock and jumped up. Pulling on her coat she rushed out the door. 

“Did you just run here?” Elena asks as Eve sits down taking in deep lungfuls of air. 

“Yes, sorry I got caught up with a new client I have.” Eve breathes in deeply. “But I still made it on time didn’t I?”

Elena takes a bread roll and rips it in half offering it to Eve. 

“With a minute to spare even.”

Eve listens in rapture as Elena wastes no time in delving into how the team has changed since she left. Frank has apparently been fired, Eve is not surprised, his incompetence was going to catch up with him at some point. Carolyn from the Russia desk has stepped in bringing along her computer whiz kid Kenny. Elena can’t seem to stop gushing about her new boss, this Carolyn person which causes Eve to gulp her wine. Feeling bolder by the steadily creeping fuzziness of her brain Eve says.

“Hey you all should come to Niko’s birthday party tomorrow. I’d love to see Bill again and meet Kenny.” 

“Oh Eve that’s nice, but I think-”

“Look Elena.” Eve leans forward and puts a hand on Elena’s jacket sleeve. 

“Niko is celebrating his birthday with a shepherd’s pie convention, also Gemma is going to be there.” Elena raises her eyebrows. “I could really use the support.”

Elena nods.

“Okay I think I can wrangle Bill. I’m not sure about Kenny but I also doubt he’s doing anything.”

****************************************************************

Eve gets to her doorstep and almost drops her keys as her phone buzzes. It’s Elena. 

“Did I leave my scarf with you?” Eve laughs and then stops abruptly as she hears Elena’s tear-filled voice over the phone say,

“Eve, it’s Bill.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made this chapter longer (okay way way longer) for you dear readers, you’re welcome. Actually it was that Eve and Villanelle ran away with their storylines and never looked back ha. On my recent rewatch I noticed even more that Bill’s death was actually a very pivotal moment for Eve in canon pushing her forward to find Villanelle and therefore I had to include it in my story.  
> The rest of April is a busy month for me with finals (and obviously watching S3) so no more posts for now but I will be back in the beginning of May :)  
> Feel free to leave your thoughts and any comments or concerns about the sudden disproportionate length in this chapter.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Niko's birthday party.

_**Eve** _

Her tongue felt thick. Her thoughts were fleeting. Her vision swam. She felt the ironic sense of deja vu and slow, widespread grin plastered her face. Eve was drunk. At Niko’s birthday party. Again. The inviting darkness of alcohol-saturated oblivion was simmering around the edges of her mind and Eve was tempted to surrender to it. The couch was as good a place as any and she had effectively scared off Niko’s coworkers by asking them if what they paid for their shepherd's pies was equal to their hourly salary.

Bill was dead. Gone. Not sitting at home. Not washing dishes. Not playing with his baby. Not kissing his wife goodnight. Not telling Eve it’s going to be alright. There’s a lot of things a person doesn’t do when they’re dead. Stabbed to death at a nightclub. _Talk about murder on the dance floor_. Eve’s lips quirked in a smile at the thought, internally she was disgusted with herself for even finding that funny. A night club? Really a nightclub? Eve could barely believe it when Elena had told her sobbing over the phone. Sure, Bill would talk about his youthful days of falling in love, going out, living life with reminiscent fondness but Eve was pretty sure Bill hadn’t “partied” like that in years. Things weren’t adding up. The growing itch to go upstairs and look at her cork board was the only thing keeping Eve's mind in touch with her present surroundings.

“Oh my gosh Eve!” an excited voice squeaks from above her.

With significant effort, Eve pulled her focus to the present and was greeted with the unsightly view of Gemma’s cleavage. It was a dark blue lace with a flowery pattern. It was the kind of bra someone bought when they decided that being an adult woman meant wearing full floral. Gemma’s face leveled into view as she crouched down to where Eve was trying to become one with the couch.

“Your shepherd’s pie was absolutely marvelous Eve.” Gemma gushed. _Laying it on thick much?_ Eve thought irritably.

“The flavor is so rich and yet delicate at the same time.”

“I bought it.” Eve replied bluntly and decided that somehow she still wasn’t drunk enough to handle Gemma. Frowning at her now empty glass Eve stands, the room slightly swaying and announces. “I need more wine.”

All of a sudden there is a huge boom from upstairs. Everyone turns to look at Eve.

“I guess I'mma go check on that.” She waves vaguely at the party guests. “Continue gorging yourselves.”

“Niko?”

Eve walks up the stairs and sees a light coming from her study. She pushes the door open. The bookshelf has fallen over and is leaning against her desk obscuring the view. Stepping into the study Eve sees Niko standing there looking shell shocked. Her cork board that had been roughly pulled out, the frame is cracked and the cork bears a slash made by a push pin. Her sticky notes decorate the floor like over-sized confetti and all her red string is strewn across the floor in a knotted mess.

“Niko, what the hel-“

“Tell me this is not what I think it is Eve?” Niko rasps, his throat sounds constricted.

“You went through my stuff?”

“Are you still working for MI6?”

“What?! No. You think they’d have me back?” Eve says with a hysterical laugh.

“That makes this even worse.”

“I’ve been working on this for weeks. How did you know where to look?” Eve walks further into the room and pivots to survey the extent of the damage.

“That psycho that cut my hair today has been stalking you and told me you were investigating again. She also told me she had gone to jail for chopping a married man’s knob off once. Regardless of whether that’s true or not I cannot believe you sent me to a psychopath?! I could have been killed. Do you understand that Eve?”

“Well you’re still standing so no need to shout.” Eve rolls her eyes. 

“Eve you promised me that after MI6 you’d stop with all this.”

“All of what Niko? Being interested in something for a change. Being a physical therapist is NOT my dream job FYI. Just because you’re good at doing something doesn’t mean you actually like doing it.”

“I didn’t know that. You seemed happy to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“We live together! I am your wife! We see each other every day. God, you’re almost as blind to me as you are about Gemma.”

“Gemma?”

“She has been drooling over you for years. She complimented my pie! That I bought!” Eve knows she’s letting the alcohol take over and she’s not making a lot of sense but she also decides she doesn’t care whether Niko understands her or not.

“Oh another thing, I hate shepherd’s pie.” Eve’s voice cracks. “Bill. Bill was the one who would eat it for lunch, I would swap it for whatever his was.” Niko looks stunned.

“I am leaving. Don’t wait up.”

“Eve, there’s guests-”

“Oh please, like you haven’t had to make excuses for my absence before.” Eve sneers and shoves him out of the way and makes a beeline for the door grabbing a wine bottle on the way out.

Eve stands on the sidewalk breathing deeply. _Villanelle_. Villanelle sent Niko to her office. _So she’s been following me_ , Eve thinks. It made her smile for a moment. This confirmed that Villanelle was more than a hairdresser. She dials the phone taking a swig of wine. Thankfully she had picked up one of the good bottles. 

“Vil-la-nelle.” Eve spoke phonetically into the phone. “I just realized, that’s a type of poem isn’t it.”

“Good evening Eve.” the reply curled around a smile that bloomed warmth in Eve’s chest.

“A villanelle. Nineteen lines. Five tercets and a quatrain. No fixed poetic form and usually about subjects of obsession.” Eve paused. “Is that what you named yourself after?”

“I am often the subject of obsession.” Villanelle agrees. “How’s the party?”

“I was about to start a pie throwing contest if I hadn’t stepped out.”

“Come over.” Eve smiles. This is better than she expected.

“You’re suggesting that I leave my husband’s birthday party?”

“You’re at your husband’s birthday party but you’re talking to me.” Eve can almost picture Villanelle shrugging.

“Okay.”

_**Villanelle** _

Villanelle puts down her phone and smirks. It had been too easy, the opportunity had practically been served on a silver platter. Eve was coming over. She hadn’t expected Eve to say yes. Then again Eve was drunk and she knew she was indefinitely more attractive than Niko. The competition was essentially nonexistent. There was only so much even Villanelle could do his mustache and didn’t understand why he got so offended at the suggestion to shave it off. When he came to the hair salon she gaped at him for a good ten seconds convinced that there was some mistake. She proceeded to give him a few irresistible bread crumbs about Eve’s current investigation just for fun and revealed some of who she actually was. Niko was too dumb not to follow through. Villanelle knew Konstantin would be pissed, that was part of her reasoning. On a daily basis she wavered between wishing she had just been left for dead rather than live this ugly, painful, monotonous existence. She craved her old life, her freedom, feeling youthful. Eve was like a blinding light in the emptiness, a disruption. Villanelle didn’t know what to do with all of it but she knew she didn’t want it to go away any time soon.

Killing Bill had been fun, he’d practically been asking for it by following her. Interesting, that means he recognized her, from the MI6 database? Hopefully they still didn’t have that ugly prison mugshot with the bandanna. Something felt weird. Why the sudden interest again, it had almost been a year since The French Incident. She thought back to the earlier conversation when Konstantin dropped by, honestly the man did not understand the concept of locks or personal space.

*********************************************************

“You’ve been naughty.” Konstantin is wagging a stubby finger in her direction from the kitchen.

“How so?” Villanelle asked feigning surprise.

“You killed an MI6 agent.” Irina piped up from the couch. Apparently they had just come from school and the brat had already raided the fridge pulling out milk and pulling out cookies.

“You’re a little shit.” Villanelle responds by plucking the cookie from Irina and submerging it fully in the glass of milk. Konstantin gives his daughter a questioning look.

“You’re very bad at using an inside voice Papa when you talk on the phone.” Irina watches Villanelle inhale the cookie with resentment but knowing she could do nothing about it.

“Why did you kill him?” Konstantin asks, deciding to ignore the interaction completely.

“I thought it would keep things interesting.”

“Well you’re right. It has. It’s become even more interesting because Carolyn is back.”

An almost involuntary spasm vibrates through Villanelle. She looks at Konstantin for a moment.

“Irina, get out.”

“But-“

“Don’t you have homework or something?” Irina huffs and leaves taking the entire milk jug with her and a cookie. “What does she want?” Villanelle goes for another cookie.

“I don’t know.” Konstantin runs his hand through his silver hair.

“I thought you said you two had made a deal.”

“Something has obviously changed.”

“Obviously.”

“You need to be careful. I’ve run out of favors with Carolyn.”

“You’re being very dramatic.”

***************************************************************************

There’s a knock on the door. Eve is standing there with an open bottle of wine in her hand.

“Do come in.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm bacccckkk!!! Apologies to any Niko fans, I really trashed him this chapter. As always feel free to leave any thoughts, feelings, musings :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and story time.

_**Villanelle** _

“It’s 10:30 at night, why are you making spaghetti?” Eve queries leaning on the countertop watching Villanelle drop the pasta into boiling water and begin stirring. 

“I eat when I’m hungry.” Villanelle responds shrugging and takes out the plate of grated Parmesan from the fridge. “Also you seem drunk and in need of sustenance.”

“Niko mentioned you tonight.” Eve rolls the bottle of wine, holding onto its neck, along the countertop stopping at the edge.

Villanelle’s face twitches into a barely concealed smirk. 

“Look Eve, I tried, I really did. I told him he’d look like a completely different man without the mustache and his wife might actually find him attractive.” 

“You’ve been stalking me.”

“Very successfully for weeks.” Villanelle preens. “You should be more careful Eve, not all stalkers are as nice as me.” 

“Why?”

“Why are you investigating me?”

“Are you mad Niko found out?”

Eve considers this for a moment and then sighs. “Yes.”

Villanelle cocks her head. “Yes...you seem furious?”

“Sometimes I think we’re just tolerating each other at this point.”

Villanelle carries the pot over the sink and stares into Eve’s eyes. “Toleration doesn’t mean respect or acceptance.”

Eve stares back as a wall of steam erupts from the sink creating a barrier between them. Eve thinks _Okay, game on._

**********************************************************

The bottle of wine stands in between them, now empty, on the table. Villanelle’s manicured fingernails tap against the glass in an irritating tempo. Eve gives her a pointed look. 

“I’ll stop if you eat.” Villanelle offers. 

Eve unearths a forkful of spaghetti from the mountain on her plate. “You’re more than a hairdresser.” 

“People are more than just their jobs Eve.” 

“Indeed and you are the current example of that. How much do you know that I know?” 

“I know that you don’t know enough.” Villanelle waving her fork at Eve. 

“Care to clue me in?”

“Why?” 

“Because I know something is going on here and it has something to do with you.”

“Why?”

“Because I believe there’s more to you than just a hairdresser with a broken back.”

“Why?”

“Because you want me to know and I want to know everything about you.”

Villanelle blinks and looks at Eve. 

_Nothing is hard to do if you practice._ Villanelle had practiced. Practiced being in love. Practiced being an assassin. Practiced refining herself. Practiced her response to human emotions she hadn’t understood prior. Nothing comes effortlessly to her. There is always a reason for the smile, the fury, the focus. Nothing is ever done unintentionally. There’s always intention behind it. Whether it be annoying Konstantin or holding the face of a life she just ended. It’s all intentional. But there’s no need for that now. No need for the charming smile, the affability, the seemingly effortless grace. There was no point if Eve wasn’t interested. _No,_ thought Villanelle. Disinterested wasn’t it. Eve’s attention to her was constant, whether conscious or not Villanelle always felt it. She loved reveling in it, she had never loved the attention of others as much as she craved Eve’s. What was more was that Eve saw through her current state. Eve didn’t see her as broken, didn’t look at her with pity like Konstantin did when he thought she wasn’t looking, didn’t treat her like a flawed tool like Raymond did. Eve seemed to know it was all just what it was, effort. A show. A cover. With Eve all of this effort wasn’t necessary, it wasn’t even wanted. 

“Okay.” Villanelle said, taking a sip of wine. “Ask me what you want.”

“Who are-” Eve began. 

“I’m going to tell you a story.” Villanelle cut in.

“You just said I could ask-”

“Eve.” Villanelle said using her last piece of garlic bread to mop up the tomato sauce that rimmed her plate. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

Eve looked at her in exasperation but said nothing and stabbed her meatball fiercely. 

_**Eve** _

Villanelle’s story replays in Eve’s mind:

_The Palace of Versailles, the Hall of Mirrors. A dramatically long hallway with 17 windows and apparently 350 mirror surfaces to reflect the monarch’s wealth and power. Gaudy crystal chandeliers hung from the painted domed ceiling of the Sun King. It’s empty except for two women standing six feet apart. Villanelle and Carolyn stand opposite each other, bodies coiled with tension. Villanelle carries a rapier and Carolyn wields a German long-sword._

_Carolyn speaks first._

_“You’ve found me.” she shifts her weight, beginning to circle._

_“I’ve been looking for an opportunity for a while. There are very few ways to discreetly dispose of you that won’t draw attention.”_

_“Have you been practicing?” Carolyn says as they trade a few preliminary blows._

_“Yes at your club in fact.” Villanelle says with an eye roll. “They insisted I do my research.”_

_“I thought I saw you once or twice in the locker room.” Carolyn replies pivoting and performing a graceful Passata Posso._

_“Did you like what you saw?” Villanelle returns with a Riposte._

_“I find the mind much more interesting than the naked form that can so easily become blemished.”_

_“Oh how the mighty have fallen.” Villanelle grins as she backs Carolyn into a corner. “No one left to manipulate huh?”_

_“People became unreliable.” Carolyn deflects and feints to the left before attacking overhead forcing their dance back into the middle of the hall._

_“What did you do to send The Twelve after one of its own?” Villanelle queries as she takes a step back and begins circling again._

_“My plan was not approved but I went ahead and made the necessary sacrifices.”_

_“What did it feel like to be all alone?”_

_“I’ve always been alone.” Carolyn responds, shrugging her eyebrows. “That’s what makes us good at our jobs.” Carolyn stares directly into Villanelle’s eyes. “The difference is that you are something to be used and I happen to be a user.”_

_Carolyn lunges forward driving Villanelle back. Villanelle is furious and attempts a counter attack which only results in Carolyn succeeding in landing two blows, one to her shoulder and nicking the top of her hip crest. The wounds sing with pain which Villanelle ignores as their volume increases. They trade vicious blows for a few more seconds before the long-sword smacks against Villanelle’s wrist sending the rapier spinning across the room._

_The heavy blade slaps the back of Villanelle’s knees causing them to buckle and she crashes to the ground. The wounds on her shoulder and hip are immobilizing now. Villanelle can feel the vibrations through the floor as Carolyn approaches._

_“I despise doing dirty work.” Carolyn sounds oddly sleepy but a hint of annoyance seeps through her melodic tone._

_The blade dips into her shoulder and carves a path, flaying her back open as it goes, to meet her hip. Only her training in pain tolerance from all those years ago keeps Villanelle cruelly conscious. She hears a phone dialing and Carolyn’s voice echoing off the walls as she walks away._

_“Yes, she is here. Oh and Konstantin? This will be my last favor.”_

Eve snaps back to reality as her meatball slides off her fork, peppering the surrounding area with flecks of red. 

“Too much?” Villanelle taking a sip of her water, her eyes never leaving Eve.

“No,” Eve replies with a tilt of her head thinking. “I just wasn’t expecting that.” 

Villanelle clears the table and Eve follows her to the kitchen. 

“As interesting as that story was, how does that explain what you’re doing now? I’ve still got nothing.”

“It’s late Eve,” Villanelle says with a yawn and ushers Eve to the door and helps her into her coat drawing her close for a moment. Eve forgets to breathe. Her entire view is taken up by Villanelle’s face. “Here’s your next clue: put Carolyn Martens on your cork-board.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really ran with Carolyn's fencing hobby in this chapter. My apologies to any fencers for the vague fight sequence, I blame my lack of experience and too many Google results. Thank you for all the kudos and comments, they're always greatly appreciated :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eve does some more digging.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My sincerest apologies for the vagueness and how slightly out of character everyone has become.

**_Eve_ **

“Eve, I’ve heard much about you.” Carolyn Martens sits across from her in a corner booth and offers her the hookah pipe. They were meeting in a Mediterranean restaurant claiming only to be open for lunch and dinner, it was breakfast time. 

“Oh yes?” Eve politely declines with a shake of her head and takes a sip of water.

“Mostly because it was clear that after the many channels you went through trying to contact me it would be a better use of everyone’s time if this was sorted in-person.” 

“I’ve heard I can be persistent.” Eve shrugs unapologetic. 

The Eve a year ago might have quaked at the thought of meeting the imitable Carolyn Martens. That Eve might have given up after the first three rejected calls, but the intimidation of authority figures has worn off. Everyone is human. Regardless of wealth, influence or opportunity sooner or later the body withers, it’s human, it’s not invincible. Carolyn might have the power to make the world spin on its axis but she is definitely, most certainly, not intimidating...that’s what Eve keeps telling herself anyway. 

“So what questions do you have?” Carolyn takes another drag and exhales away from Eve’s face. 

“Before I left, my team and I had been beginning to work on a new case. There was an organization called The Twelve who were taking responsibility for seemingly random assassinations across the world. Are you following up on that?”

“What gives you the impression that you currently have any clearance for that kind of information?”

“I’ve been investigating. There’s this woman, Villanelle. Who is one of my physical therapy clients. She’s a hairdresser in an upper loft of Raymond’s bakery which actually sells pretty good pies. Anyway the thing is, I’ve been watching the place for weeks now and all her customers never come out. I think that’s very weird. Now maybe there’s a back door exit but also while I was in the bakery I heard something that sounded weirdly like a body fall through the wall. I think they’re connected to The Twelve.”

Eve pauses and drains her glass wishing it were a strong gin and tonic. Carolyn looks at Eve and blinks. 

“You seem unhinged Eve. The Twelve have been dismantled.”

“Really?” Eve leans forward. “How-”

Carolyn stands, silencing Eve and gathers her coat which signals an end to their meeting. Eve remains sitting with her arms crossed. 

“What was the point of this then?” Eve leans back, exasperated.

“I was curious.” Carolyn shrugged. “You would do well to remember your place in this world Eve.” 

****************************************************

After wearing Elena down for an hour on the phone Eve succeeds in acquiring Kenny’s number.

“Hey Kenny.”

“Eve?”

“Elena gave me your number.” Eve proceeds to give Kenny the whole run down, he listens patiently only asking the occasional question. 

“I need your help. Your mother is blocking me.” Eve finishes. 

“You’re in luck. I’ve had a recent row with Carolyn and decided to try seeing what it’s like being rebellious.”

“How’s that going so far?”

“I can see why for many it’s just a phase. Meet me at the office in 10 minutes.” 

They make their way back to the office. Eve and Kenny sit back to back each facing their own monitor. As Kenny clicks away pulling information Eve makes a few adjustments and then sits back for a final reread of Kenny’s email she spotted on the screen when she walked in, it now reads:

_Dear Elena,_

_I know we should keep things professional but I would like to make your acquaintance outside of work. I am taking a friend’s advice and am going to try and speak plainly. I admire your work ethic, your intelligence and your straightforward approach to verbal communication. That’s something I struggle with but am constantly thinking about improving. Should you feel the same and would like to get to know me better? I would very much like to do that outside of the office over dinner perhaps? Let me know your thoughts on this subject._

_All the best,_

_Kenny_

_PS...if I have totally misread the social cues and you are only interested in a platonic work relationship please proceed with deleting this and pretending it never existed_

Kenny comes up behind her and skims the message. 

“Um, well, it’s good.”

Eve looks at him still staring at the computer. “Look, take this as just something to go off of, edit it as you wish.”

“Right. Well here’s what we’ve got so far.” Eve skims the screen and then throws her arms around Kenny. “Thank you.”

**************************************************************

The bakery is dark and the moonlight casts long shadows through the bread shelves. Following a YouTube video Eve successfully picks the lock and pushes open the door with a silent slow swing to avoid jingling the bell. 

Eve’s hunch had been right, they were still investigating The Twelve who had indeed dismantled recently and Eve’s old team was carrying on the investigation into individuals of The Twelve. According to the file Villanelle was dead but her old handler Konstantin was still alive but had gone underground. Rumors of him running a bakery shop were circulating through the international spy network but nothing was confirmed. 

Eve slips past the plastic slatted drapes that lead into the back room. It’s fairly dark with only free hanging bulbs to light the path between the hanging carcasses. The air smells strongly of salt and feels incredibly dry, like it’s trying to suck the moisture from her pores.

The zing of a blade passes so close to Eve’s face she feels the wind.

“Well, well, well.” the figure of Raymond emerges from behind a rack of ribs wielding a meat cleaver. 

“Raymond, what are you-”

“I don’t know why she likes you, you’re so annoying and you’re sticking your nose in places where it doesn’t belong.” Raymond advances towards her and Eve backs up so quickly she trips. 

“You’re not a killer.”

“Oh but I am, actually. It’s how I get paid.” 

“You used to be part of this world Eve but Carolyn has decided that it’s time for you to go.”

Eve scrambles backward until her back hits the wall. Her heart is pounding so hard it's deafening. Raymond raises the blade above his head and brings it down. Eve instinctively flinches away and her world goes dark with blinding pain. 

**_Villanelle_ **

Her arms are chastising her about missing arm-day. They’re burning. 

Villanelle spots smoke curling away from Eve’s hair and immediately drops her to the ground and begins batting away at the locks. Eve stirs and groans. 

“What the-”

“Shush Eve, your hair is going to be fine.”

“My shoulder.”

“Oh yes. Right, that’s going to be fine too.” 

Villanelle was panicking. What an odd feeling, panic. Her heart race, her thoughts spun by in milliseconds, it was all quite unpleasantly out of control, she wishes it would stop. At this point Eve was her life line. Through all those therapy sessions. Through all the times Eve pushed her to be better. And the end result? Villanelle had gained both her body back and met a friend, maybe more but definitely someone who cared about her. Villanelle has nothing left to lose if Eve wasn’t in the world anymore, she barely fathom the version herself she might become. Hoisting Eve onto her back fireman style Villanelle ran. Her legs pumping, the lactic acid burning through her. 

Villanelle had been doing one of her recent hobbies she picked up: stalking Eve. She was vaguely impressed that Eve could pick a lock even with instruction. After a minute she followed Eve just in case she needed back up. Turns out she did. Villanelle was just a step too far away to get to Eve before the axe came down. Luckily Eve had ducked sideways and so the blade only caught her shoulder. Raymond was bulky and smelly but Villanelle managed to wrangle the meat cleaver out of his hands and ended up skewering him on a meat hook. She decided that a good cover story for this would be a fire so she doused everything in gasoline and dragged Eve out the back before lighting a cigarette. The bakery went up in smoke, the air smelled like bacon. 

Villanelle rounds the corner and pauses. Eve’s wounds suggest that the probability of follow up questions by medical personnel are high. None of which Villanelle can really answer. Eve’s chest rises and falls, her breathing almost imperceptible. Villanelle needs to make a decision now. Jogging across the street she stops at the automatic doors of the emergency room. Carefully sliding Eve onto the ground she sees that a security guard has already spotted them and is calling for help. Blinded with tears that she didn’t know were there Villanelle leans down and whispers,

“I’ll see you soon Eve.” and then sprints away into the night. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who are still reading this somewhat of a train-wreck, off the rails story. As canon-Carolyn once said "Any feelings?"


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What happens next.

**_Eve_ **

Eve opens her eyes. The room is dark but the faint light of dawn peers through the slates in the window blinds. She feels a light pressure on the left side of her chest and becomes aware that she’s not the only person in her hospital bed. Villanelle is sandwiched firmly between Eve’s body and the hospital rails with her head on Eve’s chest. As if noticing her change in breathing Villanelle shifts and raises her head, blinking up at Eve. 

“I hate hospitals.” Villanelle says burrowing into Eve’s armpit. 

“Good morning to you too.” Eve smiles. Sleepy Villanelle is cute. They shift so that Villanelle’s head rests on the pillow space in the crook of Eve’s neck. 

“Bah, you smell like chlorhexidine.” Villanelle wrinkles her nose and props her head on her elbow. 

“What happened?” Eve winces as she turns to face Villanelle.

“You were too curious, I was stalking you. Raymond was being the worst. They stitched you up, apparently the blade missed your jugular vein by millimetres.” 

“I remember smelling smoke?” Eve asked questioningly. 

“The bakery was overdue for a makeover and I hated cutting hair any how, what’s that saying in English? Things are born from beautiful ashes, there’s also something about a bird in there?” 

Eve smiles. “Sure, something like that.” 

“How did you even get in here?” Eve asks, watching Villanelle snag the chocolate pudding up from the bedside table and rip it open.

“Immediate family, such as a wife, can visit any time Eve. Also the night nurse confessed that she was quitting and didn’t give a hoot anymore. She was quite funny.”

“She told you all that?”

“Yes, we bonded by the ice machine. Don’t worry though, she doesn’t have your amazing hair.” Villanelle waves a chocolate covered spoon through the air.

Eve rolled her eyes and without a second thought raised her hand and rubbed away a smidge of chocolate on the corner of Villanelle’s mouth. They both freeze. Villanelle’s eyes widen and then close halfway as Eve leans in.  _ God she’s seriously beautiful, _ Eve thinks,  _ and also that is my chocolate pudding _ . Her hand snatches the cup from Villanelle’s hand and she grins in triumph. Villanelle’s eyes snap open and she leans dramatically against the bed rail and pouts.

“You’re such a tease.”

“So what happens now?” Eve says picking up a spoon and dipping in.

*************************************************************

Okay Mrs. Polastri, are you all ready for discharge?

“Yes.” Eve replies, gathering her things and settling down in the wheelchair. 

Eve sighed in relief as the automatic doors opened to the outside and a warm breeze swept the frigid air of the hospital away. Although she had tried to reach Niko he hadn’t picked up either his cell or the home phone. Looks like he was gone for good. Eve felt a mixture of sadness and relief, she could stop feeling guilty about not being a good wife and in all honesty they were better people when they were apart. 

As Eve waited on the sidewalk of the hospital, ignoring the attempts of the teenager who was a hospital volunteer, she thought about how she had gotten here. It felt like forever ago since losing her job at MI6 and starting her physical therapy practice. During that time it felt like life had continued but  _ living  _ life had been put on pause. As ridiculous as it sounded it was like when thirteen year-old Eve had read that Twilight book New Moon with those blank chapter pages and thought she finally understood the meaning of depression, there wasn’t anything notable in her life. As cheesy as it sounded in her head and hopefully never to be voiced aloud, as chaotic as Villanelle was she made Eve feel real, like she wasn’t just some sad, non-invisible ghost floating through life. She made Eve feel solid, like ink on a page, permanent. They say that “all roads lead to Rome.” For Eve it seemed that her Rome was, and was always going to be Villanelle. Momentarily, Eve is horrified by those sappy thoughts but then decides to blame it on the sunshine and hospital delirium.

Villanelle had insisted on picking her up. Eve wondered if Villanelle had somehow acquired a horse-drawn carriage for the occasion.

**_Villanelle_ **

Villanelle puts the car in park and walks around to the passenger side. Eve being discharged from the hospital was a celebration and Villanelle always dressed for an occasion. She was dressed in full chauffeur attire. A deep red jacket with gold buttons framed with black cuffs and collar accompanied with black leather pants and boots. Her honey blonde locks streamed down beneath a black, shiny rimmed chauffeur’s cap that Villanelle takes off with a sweep of a white gloved hand in a low bow. That earns her an eye roll and smile from Eve.

“Where did you get this?” Eve asks, eyes running over the sleek Mercedes. 

“Well darling, I thought it would be easier to step down into a Mercedes rather than up into an SUV.” 

“Is she the one who is supposed to be picking you up Mrs. Polastri?” The hospital volunteer said nervously.

“I’m Eve’s wife.” Villanelle said smoothly advancing on the wiry teen. “Thank you so much for bringing me Eve, you can go now.” 

The teen backed away and scampered back through the automatic sliding doors. 

Villanelle reached forward to help Eve out of the chair. Eve reaches up and grabs the front of her coat pulling their lips together soundly.  _ Smooth Eve, very smooth,  _ Villanelle thinks giddily and tries to both smile and kiss Eve back. Eve pulls more insistently and Villanelle happily climbs on Eve’s lap regardless of whether that had been Eve’s intention or not. They stay like that for long enough that the awkward teenager has the gall to come out and tell them that the wheelchair is needed for other patients. 

“So, where to,  _ wife _ ?” Eve said as Villanelle eased out onto the road.

“We’re going on a road trip.” 

“Oh really. Any particular destination in mind?” 

“To kill Carolyn and maybe some other people.”

“I’m willing to entertain that idea.” 

“First we need a plan so we’re going to swing by your place and you’re going to pack a sleepover bag.”

“Sleepover?”

“Yes, I was thinking a sleepover murder planning party?”

“I’d like that.” Eve confesses, almost to herself. Villanelle beams.

“Is mustache still here?” As they pull up and Villanelle parks. 

“No, the last I heard he had moved in with this annoying woman Gemma he works with.”

“Thank god that musty soul has vacated the premise.”

Eve huffs a small laugh and they walk into the house together.

A chirp greets them and a chicken pops its head up from the couch. 

“Oh hey Drumstick.” Eve addresses the chicken. Villanelle busts out laughing. 

“Drumstick?” 

“Niko named her. She always produced shitty eggs. Like there was always her shit on the eggs.” 

Villanelle snickers.  “Go upstairs and pack a bag, I’m going to raid your kitchen for sleepover snacks.” 

Villanelle studies the outside of the fridge for a moment. There’s cheesy tourist magnets from different countries holding up photos of Niko and Eve when they were younger. They looked happy. A calendar on the other door filled with various normal life activities, events, birthday reminders. It was so domestic, normal. Villanelle blinks and sets about rounding up goodies for their sleepover. 

“Okay I think I’ve got everything.” Eve reappears just as Villanelle finds a bag of popcorn kernels. 

“Are you sure you want to do this Eve?” Villanelle says leaning against the counter. “Your life won’t be this normal anymore.” She gestures to the fridge of memories.

“You know, I haven’t looked properly at this in forever.” Eve chuckles stepping up and examining the fridge. “Looks like I missed Deb’s birthday, whoops.” She doesn’t sound sorry. She turns to Villanelle. 

“These are just memories, they’re good memories.” Eve concedes and continues. “But that’s all they’re ever going to be and I can’t remember the last time Niko and I had a moment good enough to remember without the help of a photograph.”

“So you’re willing to give up a normal life for one on the run with an assassin?” Villanelle presses.

“Yes, because ever since I met you it’s like you woke me up. I was just existing before you and now I’m living. I’d rather live in uncertainty than just exist in normalcy.”

*********************************************************

They’re settled on the couch. A bowl of popcorn between them and wine glasses on either side. Their hands keep brushing as they go in for more popcorn at the same time. A movie plays and Eve’s cork-board is propped to the side with plans connected by red string intertwining an uncertain future for them, together. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m a sucker for a Villaneve happy ending, it wasn’t supposed to be this fluffy but it’s what happened. Thank you to everyone who left kudos, commented and read parts or all of this. It was quite the struggle at times but I’m glad I made it to the end. Smell ya later!


End file.
